Daughter of the Empire. Janny Wurts

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СКАЧАТЬ A strained silence developed, while a dislodged parchment floated in her soup dish.

      Nacoya brusquely disregarded her mistress’s temper. ‘You have no other choice, child. As Ruling Lady you must seek out a consort from among the younger sons of certain houses in the Empire. A marriage with a son of the Shinzawai, the Tukareg, or the Chochapan would gain an alliance with a house able to protect us.’ She fell silent a moment, then said, ‘For as long as any could. Still, time might tip the balance.’

      Mara’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes widened. ‘I’ve never seen any of the boys you have named. I will not wed a stranger!’

      Nacoya stood. ‘You speak now from anger, and your heart rules your mind. Had you never entered the temple, your husband would have been selected from those found acceptable by your father or your brother after him. As Lady of the Acoma, you must do as much for the sake of your house. I leave you to think upon this.’

      The nurse wrapped old fingers around the box to be delivered by the Porters’ Guild to the Lord of the Minwanabi. She bowed stiffly and left.

      Mara sat in silent rage, eyes fixed unseeing upon the soaked parchment, which slowly sank in the depths of the soup bowl. The thought of marriage evoked nameless fears, rooted somehow in her grief. She shivered, though the day was hot, and snapped her fingers for servants to remove the food trays. She would rest, and contemplate alone upon what her aged nurse had instructed.

      Upon Keyoke’s recommendation, Mara remained within the estate house throughout the afternoon. Although she would have preferred to continue her review of the Acoma holdings by litter, her warriors were too depleted; a retinue would be needed to ensure her safety in the open, leaving fewer guards available for routine patrols. Too conscientious to remain idle, the girl studied documents, to acquire further familiarity with the more distant assets of her family. She called for a light meal. The shadows lengthened, and the heat of the afternoon settled into stillness.

      In the course of her reading, the Lady of the Acoma had come to understand a subtle but important fact of Tsurani life, one emphasized often by her father but only now appreciated: honour and tradition were but two walls of a great house; power and wealth comprised the other two. And of the four, it was the latter pair that kept the roof from collapsing. Mara clenched her fist against the handle of the scroll. If somehow she could keep those enemies who sought her death at bay, until she could muster the strength to enter the Game of the Council, then … She abandoned the thought unfinished. Keeping the Lords of the Minwanabi and Anasati at bay was the problem at hand. Vengeance was a useless dream unless she could secure her family’s survival.

      Deep in thought, Mara did not hear Nacoya call softly from the doorway. ‘Mistress?’ the nurse repeated.

      Mara glanced up, startled, and motioned the old nurse inside. She waited, preoccupied and aloof, while the old woman bowed, then knelt before her.

      ‘Lady, I have thought upon our talk this afternoon, and I beg your tolerance as I advise.’

      Mara’s eyes narrowed. She had no desire to resume their earlier discussion of marriage, but the lingering ache of the assassin’s bruises reminded her of the need for prudence. She laid her scrolls aside and gestured for Nacoya to continue. ‘As Ruling Lady of the Acoma, your status would not change with marriage. A husband might sit at your right hand, but he would have no voice in house matters, save that which you permit. He –’

      Mara waved her hand. ‘These things I know.’

      The old nurse settled more comfortably upon the mat before her mistress. ‘Your forgiveness, Lady. When I spoke earlier, I had forgotten that to a maiden of Lashima the concerns of the world beyond the temple walls would fade from mind. Matters between boys and girls, the meetings with the sons of noble houses, the kissing and the touching games – these things were denied you the past year and more. The thought of men …’ Unnerved by the growing intensity of Mara’s stillness, Nacoya faltered, but forcibly finished. ‘Forgive an old woman’s rambling. You were a maiden – and still are.’

      The statement caused Mara to blush. During her time at the temple, she had been instructed to put things of the flesh aside. Nacoya’s concern that the girl might be unable to deal with this question was unfounded, for within Mara the struggle to forget had been difficult. She had often caught herself daydreaming of boys she had known during childhood.

      Mara rubbed nervously at the bandage that covered her injured palm. ‘Mother of my heart, I am still a maiden. But I understand what is between a man and a woman.’ Abruptly, as if piqued, she formed a circle with thumb and forefinger of her left hand and inserted her right forefinger with a thrusting motion. Herdsmen, farmers, and soldiers used such a mime to indicate fornication. While not obscene – sex was an unselfconscious fact of Tsurani life – her gesture was common and ill became the Lady of a great house.

      Too wise to rise to such provocation, Nacoya said, ‘Mistress, I know you played with your brother among soldiers and herdsmen. I know you have seen the bulls mount the cows. And more.’ Given the close proximity of Tsurani living, many times over the years Mara and her brother had been within earshot of passion, or occasionally had blundered upon an encounter between slaves or servants.

      She shrugged, as if the matter were of little account.

      ‘Child, you understand what passes between men and women, here.’ The nurse raised a forefinger to her own head. Then she pointed to her heart. ‘But you do not understand here,’ and she pointed toward her groin, ‘or here. I may be old, but I remember.

      ‘Mara-anni, a Ruling Lady is also a warrior. You must master your body. Pain must be conquered.’ The nurse grew reflective with remembrance. ‘And at times passion is more pain than any sword wound.’ Low sunlight through the screen underscored the firmness of her features as she focused once more upon Mara. ‘Until you learn your own body, and master its every need, you are vulnerable. Your strengths, or your weaknesses, are those of House Acoma. A handsome man who whispers sweetly in your ears, whose touch rouses fire in your loins, might destroy you as easily as the Hamoi tong.’

      Mara flushed deeply, her eyes ablaze. ‘What are you suggesting?’

      ‘A Ruling Lady must be free of doubt,’ Nacoya said. ‘After your mother’s death, Lord Sezu took steps to ensure that the desires of the flesh would not tempt him to act foolishly. Lust for the daughter of the wrong house could have destroyed the Acoma as surely as if he had lost a battle.

      ‘While you were at the temple, he had women of the Reed Life brought to this house –’

      ‘Nacoya, he had such women stay here when I was younger. I remember.’ Mara drew breath impatiently and, by the heavy scent of akasi, realized that slaves were trimming the gardens beyond the screens.

      But the cloying air seemingly had no effect upon Nacoya. ‘Lord Sezu did not always act for himself, Mara-anni. Sometimes the women came for Lanokota, that he might learn the ways of man and woman, and not fall prey to the ambitions of wily daughters and their fathers’ plots.’

      The idea of her brother with such women unexpectedly offended Mara; yet the proximity of slaves forced her to maintain propriety. ‘So, again I say what do you suggest?’

      ‘I will send for a man of the Reed Life, one skilled in –’

      ‘No!’ Mara cut her off. ‘I will not hear of this!’

      Nacoya ignored her mistress. ‘– ways of pleasure. He can teach –’

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